Seasons
by Iris C
Summary: What if Sana meant her goodbye to Hayama when she left for NY? What if she married Naozumi, became an even bigger superstar, and never saw Hayama until tragedy brings them back together? A string of what ifs, a lot of angst, drama, and romance!


Title: Seasons

Summary: What if Sana meant her goodbye to Hayama when she left New York? What if she married Naozumi, became an even bigger superstar, and never saw Hayama until tragedy brings them back together? What if it's too late? Is it too late? A string of what ifs, a lot of angst, drama, romance, and our favorite characters in a mishmash fic!

Author's note: minna genki? Iris desu. Haven't written fics in a while. Re-watched an episode of Kodocha the other day. The one where Sana is filming that Water Palace movie with Naozumi and she calls Hayama and finds out he's dating Fuka and then her eyes got all ghostly cuz she realizes she's in love and she cries and cries and I wanted to kill Hayama for hurting Sana and I almost liked Naozumi when he hugged Sana so desperately and they're both crying crying crying. Oh the angst. I love it. So I thought I'd extend the angst, and this is the result. The cast in the mid-20ties now, and Sana and Naozumi are married. Yes. . . and yes. . . this will be a AkitoSana because they is star-crossed and just a lil' dense. Please review thanks.

**Chapter One: Spring/Haru**

Aki.

Do you remember, that summer's night, when we fell in the pit of fireflies, you weren't looking at me when you said "you can always come to me when you cry."

Aki.

You never knew this but, so long ago when I cried, I didn't know who to go to, because it was you who made me cry.

Why is it that I can only cry in front of you, Aki? Do you hear me, Aki? Will you hold me while I cry, Aki?

Kurata Sana is slumped over the hospital bed, over him. Her small hands curled tightly on the bed sheet covers while sobs wrung over her body.

Can you hear me, Aki?

"Sa. . . Sana-chan." The door clinked half way open. Natsumi's mouth opened in surprise.

Sana froze and pulled herself up, forcing her tears in. "Natsumi." She managed a weak smile. "Gomen ne! I. . . I. . ." Her eyes faded suddenly, dark holes of dying ambers. She took a few steps toward Natsumi, and murmured more to herself. "I should probably get going."

". . .Sana."

"Natsumi. One more thing. Will you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Will you please not tell Haya… Aki-to that I was here?"

Natsumi's face fell to helplessness. "But Sana-"

"Please. . .? Natsumi-san?" When she bowed, her chestnut hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders.

Natsumi hand cupped Sana's chin, and lifted the face of the child star turned beautiful starlet - with her perfect red lips, blushed cheeks, and eyes of puddles threatening to spill over - and she thought she saw, just for one moment, her brother's only love. "O.K. Sana-chan."

Sana wanted to hug Natsumi right then and right there and cry. But as it was, she was Kurata Sana, the always cheery, nothing rains on my parade, most wanted actress in Japan, and pretender extraordinaire. "Arigatou!" Instead, she brushed past Natsumi with the click of her heels. When she looked back, Natsumi wore a curious smile. Sana paused before saying, "call me the moment when he wakes up?"

"Of course."

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It was raining April showers when she stepped out of the hospital. Spring, the month of renewal, had taken upon itself paint the world, spilling green ink across lawns, and whites, pinks, and purples hanging on the trees. Sana marveled at the colors even under a dim sky. The smell of wet earth tapped into her nose, and despite herself, she smiled after taking a deep breath. Maybe, she thought, renewal meant a new beginning.

"Sana!" a black umbrella made its way toward her, and quickly shielded her from the rain. "You're getting wet."

"Nao. . ."

"Come on, let's get in the limo." The person underneath the umbrella revealed to be Naozumi. While no longer a pretty boy idol commanding power over the entire prepubescent girl population in Japan, Naozumi was still pretty. He, like Sana, has made a smooth transition from child actor to adult actor. He was older, taller, but still retained his willowy frame, sensitive face, and a gallant charm that has captured the hearts of everybody from six-year-olds watching Kodocha IV and grannies in their sixties. He was Japan's leading man, with his leading lady, Kurata Sana, or on legal documents, Kamura Sana, by his side. They were the golden couple of Japan. Their smiles don the covers of all major magazines, and their every frown translated into scandal in the tabloids.

"Kamura-san, shall we go?" the driver called out.

"Just one minute, Inozuki-san," Naozumi turned to Sana. "Sana, do you still want to go? I'm sure we can arrange something if you don't want to. Is. . . is Hayama all right?"

Sana was still looking out at the flowers when she said, "after the rain, cherry blossoms will come."

"Eh?"

"His outer injuries will heal fine. It's the head concussion they are worried about. He won't wake up right now, but the doctor said he will, in time."

"In time?" Naozumi frowned.

"Could be tomorrow, could be in weeks, but he will wake up. Hayama na. . . is strong."

Naozumi studied the profile of his wife, at how it suddenly glowed and at the determination laced in her expression.

"And I can't possibly miss my own premier, please drive, Inozuki-san," Sana called to the limo driver in front.

"Hai hai…"

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"The dress? Anou… the dress is from Chanel's spring line. I don't know much about it. My stylist picked it out for me! I just told her I wanted something springy!"

The reporter echoed Sana's laughter, nodding in approval the way the faerie-like dress clung on the starlet's body, completely washed over by the smile and the inexhaustible cheerfulness of the charming actress. Oh yes, Kurata Sana was well on her way to dominating the best dressed and best smile categories, not to mention a possible Academy Award with a new movie in the works.

She was without a doubt, fast becoming Japan's most beloved actress. With a loyal fan base from when she was just a little hyperactive kid on Kodocha, Kurata Sana has continued to win fans with her natural beauty, comedic exaggerations, and a sunny disposition that was coveted as the cover girl for every cosmetic and cell phone Company, not to mention charity groups. She had it all - fame, beauty, respect, her face plastered on billboards all over Asia - all that at the still tender age of 26.

"Kurata-san! Are the rumors true that you and Kamura-san's marriage is on the rocks?" a squeaky reporter squeezed his way through the crowd, a notepad and pen in his hand.

Of course, fame had its downsides. For one, a weekly presence in the tabloids.

"No, I'm sorry, but rumors are rumors!" she flashed a quick smile.

"Kurata-san! You and Kamura-san have been together for over a year, are you expecting a baby soon?"

For two, nobody really cared about your films. It was always the same questions about your clothes, your love life, or some things you had no idea how these reporters found out about.

"Kurata-san! You were seen at the Juuban hospital today! Is everything okay? Are you having health issues?"

Sana froze and turned a shade paler, taking on an expression that made the previous reporter reconsider the best smile category for best glare. "Who. . . What. . . How…!" she stammered, and looked like she was ready to strangle him. "That's private! How dare you follow me!"

An arm quickly wrapped around Sana's waist, and Naozumi squeeze her gently. "Sana. . ."

Sana turned to Naozumi in disbelief, nearly sputtering in anger.

"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but we're wanted inside now. Thank you for your questions and concern," Naozumi smoothly guided his wife away from a now roused crowd of reporters, bestowing concerned eyes on her burnt amber eyes.

"He followed us. How dare he? I don't care if they make rumors about us. I don't care, but they are not allowed to touch my friends. He better not have followed me inside," Sana muttered. "If I see anything about Hayama in the papers, I'll. . ."

"Sana," Naozumi held his hand at the small of her back. "You're overreacting. They couldn't possibly have followed you inside, besides, even if they did, there's nothing wrong with you visiting a. . . sick friend, and the hospital's can't disclose information they are not allowed to. That reporter was probably just proud of himself for bumping into you in the hospital, and wanted to rub it in you. Don't get riled up, that's what he wants. . ."

Sana sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you for saving me back there."

"Come on, let's get this premier over with."

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Naozumi was careful to not disturb Sana when he pushed off the bed. He watched her small figure rise and fall gently with each breath, her hands curled tightly against her pillow corners. So tense, he noted with a grimace, pulling the covers up to her bare shoulders carefully. He knew that she didn't fall asleep until the birds chirped. He felt her wide eyes on the ceiling after they exchanged good nights, to begin a night preoccupied by thoughts of somebody Naozumi was too familiar with, a certain Hayama Akito, who plagued her dreams and made her toss and turn.

Naozumi stopped when the covers reached near her chin, and halted at what he saw was. . . tear streaks? Near the edge of her eyes, where eye bags also hung abnormally on the usually perfect face of Kurata Sana. Naozumi drew a sharp breath, paced out of their bedroom, and shut the door with a soft click.

"Baka. . ." he slid down against the door, burying his face against knees. "Stop making her cry." In a brief lapse of resignation, he pulled himself up. She doesn't need you when she has me. I'm always there for her when she cries. I'll always be there. He marched into the kitchen and started breaking eggs and pouring flour. Breakfast will make the both of us feel better; he smiled, and began what he had planned all along for their shared break from all the show business.

The week of the cheery blossoms was an auspicious reunion for both of them. He had just returned from a three months filming for a drama, and Sana had just finished promoting her new movie. They hadn't seen each other for more than a week in months since New Year's. Naozumi had been so thrilled that their breaks (other than a few interviews and photo shoots here and there) coincided that he had planned the food to cook and movies to rent well beforehand. Then before he was able to put it all into action, that fateful call had drained Sana of all color.

Hayama Akito reentered their lives by way of an accident that rendered him with broken limbs and a concussion in the head. The effect of which, sent Sana, who was in the middle of makeup to the premier of her new movie, to yelling hysterically at the driver to go to Juuban hospital, where Hayama had been for a week in intensive care.

"He won't wake up," Naozumi remembered Sana's ghost voice when she told of him. "I have to go see him, Nao."

The ride to the hospital had been a separation from reality. Sana sat through the entire ride to the hospital with her hands in tight fists and eyes unfocused. Naozumi was occupied with old fears, partly wishing this had never happened, partly wishing Hayama had better be okay, partly wishing. . . wishing. . .

What if he died?

What if Hayama Akito died?

Would he be relieved? Relieved that his old love rival is gone? Would he be sad? Because Sana would be? Would Sana be sad? Or would she. . .

The phone rang the moment Naozumi poured the egg mixture into the pan, he cursed and let the egg and his thoughts go half-baked.

"Hello!" he addressed the receiver rather roughly. "I mean… hello?"

A timid voice came on the other end. "Hello, may I speak to Sa. . . I mean, Kamura Sana?"

Naozumi raised an eyebrow. Sana had kept her maiden name due to her established name in the entertainment world, and most people rarely called her by his family name. "May I ask who's speaking?" he said cautiously. Sometimes annoying reporters find ways to get a hold of this number, and even though the timid voice hardly sounded like a frantic tabloid journalist, he had to make sure.

"Hayama."

Naozumi froze.

"Hayama Natsumi desu."

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She was dreaming of peaches…

Large, fat, round peaches threatening to fall off the thin branches of the peach tree they were attached to. She was watching the pink petals of the peach flower falling with the breeze, and the buds of the peaches growing bigger and bigger until they swelled into flame colored spheres.

"Momotaro, momotaro, momotaro-san," she chanted below the tree. "Okoshini tsuketa kibidango. Hitotsu watshi ni kudasai na!"

(Momotaro, or peach boy, is a hero from Japanese folklore. His tale is extremely well-know in Japan and East Asia. Literally meaning Peach Taro. - Wiki. Sana is chanting the popular Momotaro song.)

She reached out a hand toward the peach fruit. "Peach boy!"

"Oi, Sana-no-baka."

"EH!" Sana squeaked. The fruit suddenly grew eyes, a nose, lips, and a fistful of blond hair that resembled the previous monkey boss lone wolf, "HAYAMA!"

"Sana-no-baka, nani o shiteru?" (Sana you idiot, what are you doing?)

"HAYAMA! What are you doing in the peach?" she was ready to faint.

"I'm Peach Boy."

"PEACH BOY?"

"Eh, sou desu."

"Eh, nan desu ka? How did you become Peach Boy?"

"Eh, I don't know. I guess it's my next reincarnation."

"Reincar… Hayama! Hayama, you're not allowed to reincarnate into peach yet!"

"Sana-no-baka, I'll do what I want to do."

And the Hayama-peach fell with a dull thud onto the ground. . .

…………….

…………….

"Sana! Sana!"

"NOOO!" Sana woke screaming.

"Sana!" Naozumi wrapped his arms around her and felt her shake in his embrace. "It's just a dream. It's just a nightmare. It's okay. . ."

"Impossible. . . a lone peach is no more fun than a lone wolf!"

It took him a while to realize she was actually shaking in laughter, sputtering "impossible" over and over again. Naozumi was afraid to look at his wife to find her out of her mind, when Sana said quite sanely, "you can let go of me now, Nao."

He let go, and studied her now calm face with scrutiny before giving her the phone. "You have a phone call?"

"Eh?"

"It's Hayama's sister."

"Oh," her eyes bored into his sapphire blues before hugging the phone to her ear. "Moshi, moshi?"

"Sana. Akito… Akito woke up."

Sana closed her eyes, and let relief wash over her body. "That's great news. . . Natsumi."

"There's bad news. He. . . he. . . can't remember any of us!" Natsumi cried, and suddenly her voice broke. "Not papa, not me, not Tsuyoshi, not Aya. The doctors say he has amnesia. They're trying to see what type it is, oh I hope to God it's temporary."

Sana went cold. She felt like she was in one of those dramas she used to do. Accident. Amnesia. Aki, are you writing a script for me? She smiled inwardly, but couldn't pull the muscles in her face to make a smile.

"Natsumi, I'm going to see him. Tell Aki I'm coming to see him," she hung up the phone abruptly and pulled herself from bed. She was dressed in a whirlwind moment, and it wasn't until when she was downstairs did she feel Naozumi's eyes on her back.

"Nao, I'm going."

He nodded affirmative, and watched her march out.

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Afternotes: rev rev rev!


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